


The Adventures of Fred and Gold Beak

by Molespeople



Category: Genghis Khan - Miike Snow (Music Video)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molespeople/pseuds/Molespeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did they get here?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gold Beak runs into his work nemesis at a bar. He's not being overdramatic. Frederick, Code Name Osprey, Cameron, his assigned nemesis is sipping coolly at his martini. Gold Beak does not often venture to the bar after work. He feels guilty leaving Helena with the experiments for prolonged periods of time, especially since she has her own henching to do. Gold Beak has a feeling that Frederick cannot say the same, the dossier on Gold Beak's desk speaks to a flirtation with alcohol use disorder. 

He spends a little too long mulling over the decision to leave and Frederick spots him, raising his drink in a mockery of a toast. 

Gold Beak nods his greeting as he approaches the bar. "Frederick." He's pleased that the name is unmarred, no sign of a stutter in sight.

"Do call me Fred, Beaky, I'm off the clock."

Gold Beak resists the urge to sigh. "One can only hope that your excessive familiarity comes from a misbegotten sense of overconfidence."

Frederick's -- Fred's eyes seem to glitter as he takes a sip of his drink. "Misbegotten, hmm? I guess you'll show me tomorrow." 

Gold Beak, in fact, does not _show_ him tomorrow. Three months from now, though. That's another story.


	2. The Minions Will Talk

Kyle looks down the hallway and listens to the fading slaps of Gold Beak's boots against the cement. It's a surprisingly reliable indicator of their boss' movements. "Coast is clear, guys." 

And just like that, his fellow henchers lose their rigid posture. Luna rubs the back of her neck. "I thought he would never leave. Micromanage much?" 

Kyle shakes his head. "He's not his usual self right now. I mean, he's under a lot of stress. You know how Helena, uh, I mean Silver Talon is putting him through the wringer. I heard from R&D that he's having to transfer control of almost all of his experiments in order to keep K130-N and N031-K. _And_ she's taking half the henchers." 

Luna rolls her eyes. "You're making it sound like GoBe is the victim here. He put Helena in a tight spot. All those years as Lead Hencher and that's how he treats her? Throws her to the side for some _boy_? You can't get away from this motherfucking glass ceiling, boys,  
even as a hencher." 

Kyle huffs. "I'm sure you'll fit right in over in Hel, uh, I mean Silver Talon's outfit." 

"You bet your baggy blue behind I will. Gray's more my color anyway."

"Gold Beak's not so bad." Piper adds from the opposite wall. "S'better than flipping burgers." 

The hallway resonates with the sound of the henchers' agreement as they stomp their boots. 

"Here, here,"Kyle cheers. "You can't argue with the benefits. Though the doctors in our network are kind of iffy. Little overzealous with the metal application if you ask me. Guy tried to argue that a silver hand was the best treatment for carpal tunnel. Kept going on about the ions being ben -" Kyle stands to attention and tries not to make eye contact as Gold Beak rushes by.


	3. Going Through the Motions

Gold Beak does not usually feel flustered. When one has the ability to science their way out of most objectionable scenarios, it removes most of the opportunities to feel at loose ends. Gold Beak, however, has lost the luxury of his calm and collected pace as he advances up the frankly horrendous steps of SCALES HQ, an equally horrendous building designed by some disturbingly daft architect with exhibitionist tendencies and a profound fondness for the atrocities of neo-futuristic design. He spends a little too long trying to find the door to the building amidst a plastic sea of whiteness. "It's a bloody code violation," he curses as he struggles to prise open the door.

The exterior of the building, once breached, leads to a large marble cavern. The SCALES emblem etched into the center of the room feels like salvation in the midst of slickness, even his boots have no grip. "Honestly," Gold Beak mutters under his breath. 

Unfortunately reaching the emblem cues the video greeting that occupies the entire wall. Gold Beak is uncomfortably familiar with the speech that the 20-meter disembodied head spews. "Welcome to SCALES." It is perhaps one of the only items that regrettably has not changed from the move to the old headquarters to this one. Fortunately, the projection signals his arrival and Fred rises from the recessed seating area to greet him. Gold Beak finds the sight of Fred particularly motivating even if he looks like a turtleneck-wearing pimple against the projected image."Founded in 1960, Scientific Collective Advancement by Leveraging Espionage Services leads the way in pioneering technology that can change the world -" 

Fred greets him with a lingering hand on his arm and a whisper in his ear. "It took you long enough, Beaky darling. I was beginning to envision the place as a mausoleum of sorts." 

"There were unforeseen delays."

Fred hums noncommittally. "You forgot the paperwork." 

Gold Beak straightens the hem of his uniform. "I momentarily overlooked the paperwork." Gold Beak does not need an advanced mathematics degree to determine that from the angle of Fred's eyebrow that his excuse is not particularly convincing. 

Fred sprawls on the impractically white couch. "Yes, well, I would imagine that they'll be reviewing our paperwork soon now that you're here. _Finally_. Which is good particularly since I got one of your 'employees' to watch Kleo and Noel." 

Gold Beak looks at his watch and sighs. "Filling out paperwork for overtime is a nightmare." 

"As long as I get a drink, I'll keep you company,"Fred says patting his knee in consolation.


	4. Paperwork and such

The gossamer feeling of contentedness dissipates when a prim white figure appears by his elbow. Gold Beak resists the urge to press his hand against his chest in an attempt to steady his heart. If he wasn’t a man of science, he would have sworn the unfortunate creature was a ghost. 

“Gold Beak. Osprey. Follow me, please.” 

Fred brushes a hand against his chest as he rises from the couch. “I’m not surprised you were startled,”  
he whispers. “Her uniform is _horrendous_. Makes you wonder how she even sits down in the thing.”

Gold Beak resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You couldn’t have the decency to alert me to her presence, Eagle Eyes?” 

“Beaky, darling, very few people would ever describe me as decent.” Fred smiles, a twinkle in his eyes, before he practically skips away. 

“What a ridiculous man,” Gold Beak mutters fondly under his breath. 

——————————

Gold Beak is tired. His arm aches. 

“Just a few more forms, gentlemen.” 

Gold Beak resists the urge to rub his face in frustration. The overtime pay is simply going to be ridiculous and K130-N and N031-K benefit from a consistent schedule. Also, he’s hungry and would like to eat supper at some point this evening. 

“If you could both sign RF-H3NC4, this will acknowledge Osprey’s reassignment as Head Hencher for you, Mr. Gold Beak.” 

“He prefers Dr. Gold Beak,” Fred corrects mildly, absorbed in examining the fine print of the form as he is. He’s refused to wear his eyeglasses yet again and Gold Beak will most certainly be doing some nursing as well when Fred suffers from the eye strain.

Felicia leans across the desk. “Excuse me, Dr. Gold Beak. Now, Mr. Cameron, you’ll lose your Osprey designation and assume the designation of Frederick.” 

“I really do prefer Fred, Ms. Waterford.” 

“Your preference has been noted, Mr. Cameron, but SCALES approved the reassignment with the Frederick designation. Has a decidedly more Head Hench feel.” Felicia pushes two more forms across her desk. “We’ll also need signatures on RF-N3M3. This will note your approval of Hel-,I mean, Silver Talon, as your nemesis.” 

Felicia purses her lips and taps a pen idly on the desk. “Now, you’ve stated that your relationship with Silver Talon was platonic. But, our records show that you, Dr. Gold Beak, and Silver Talon co-inhabited at the following address. Is this correct?” 

“K130-N and N031-K require a very intensive monitoring schedule. Co-inhabitation was -“ 

“Think of the children, Ms. Waterford,” Fred adds, rather unhelpfully from his chair. 

Felicia arches a brow. “And how would you describe your current relationship with Frederick, Dr. Gold Beak.” 

“I included all of that information on the submitted documentation, Ms. Waterford.” 

Felicia leans back in her chair. “But how would you describe your relationship, in an unofficial capacity, Dr. Gold Beak.” 

“You’ll find that I’m not interested in commenting on my relationship with Fred in an unofficial capacity.” Gold Beak resists the urge to add “I’m not going to feed the rumor mill, you loose-lipped harpy.”

“Rest assured, Ms. Waterford, it’s very romantic,” Fred coos.

Gold Beak is very tired.


End file.
